


Just One Minute More

by usssamwell



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bob is trying to be a good father, Bob's POV, Father-Son Relationship, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, The boys have a much needed talk, but realising he's missed so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usssamwell/pseuds/usssamwell
Summary: Almost a week had past and the beeping of the machines had become as normal to Bob as his own heartbeat was. The constant humming and beeping sounds letting him know that yes, his son is still alive.-It's been a week since Jack's overdose and Bob is sat by Jack's bedside, waiting for Jack to wake up. Whilst he waits Bob does some much needed reflecting on their past.





	Just One Minute More

Almost a week had past and the beeping of the machines had become as normal to Bob as his own heartbeat was. The constant humming and beeping sounds letting him know that yes, his son is still alive. His son is still breathing. Is still hooked up to wires and computers with names too large to even say, let alone know what they actually do. The tube down his throat had only come out the day before. He was stuck. Unable to leave his room, even his own goddamn bed, until the doctors think he is ready. Bob reckons he is just the same, unable to say with any certainty what colour the sky even was: all he knows now are the manila coloured walls surrounding him. It’s pathetic. Alicia has already done so much. Found psychiatrists and programs and reading material, and what’s he done? Just sat there useless, holding his son’s hand as if that would somehow fix everything. As if the medicines and the drips and the pumps are all worthless if he’s not there to make sure Jack’s not alone alone. As he sits there, Jack sleeping in his hospital. Bob makes a promise to himself that as long as there is air in his lungs Jack will never be alone again.

Alicia was gone again. This time however taking a well earned, and much needed, nap at home. Before she had gone she had looked like a small breeze could have blown her over. Standing in the doorway of Jack’s hospital room, creases of fabric marked into her face. Bob had ushered her out of the door and, thankfully, Alicia had been too tired to protest. How she had still been on her feet was beyond him. Bob understood. He himself felt like he was going to collapse any second but kept telling himself ‘just one minute more’ and somehow it worked. If he can trick himself into staying awake another week it would be perfect. He needed to be strong enough for his family, ready to go when needed. Both Alicia and Jack were so focused, so stubborn and one track minded. In all honestly Bob has been worrying about them for years already. He’d often worry about whether or not if they were eating or were cooling down properly or learning to just take a step back and a deep breath. Obviously not. Alicia was always running around and had been since the day they first met. She would have kept going until her legs had worn down to stumps if Bob hadn’t have sent her home and they both know it. It’s her own way of coping, Bob understands that, but it makes his heart hurt even more than it already does. Seeing the people he loves most in the world hurting so much breaks him. Part of him thinks that she is almost doing it just to avoid seeing him. To avoid sitting in the room too long in silence. Letting the words fester and boil. If they let the words shimmer for too long the both of them will get burnt. Bob knows this and still he clings to the could be’s. Eventually they will need to sit down to actually talk instead of the rushed conversations, that have become the current norm, and hopefully they’ll be able to make it out on the other side. Survival just feels so far away.

Jack’s hands begin to move, squirming out of Bob’s grip for leverage beneath himself, and Bob watches slowly as Jack eases himself up. His eyes hung too heavy on his face for a teenage year old boy. As Jack looks around the room Bob can see the moment the surroundings slowly become to take form in Jack’s eyes. The machines and walls and hospital gown forming together to make one, horrific, story. Bob feels like he’s treading on eggshells. “Hey, son.”

“Hey,” Jack rasps. His voice is still a little scratchy from the tube. The doctor had warned that would happen for a little while, saying it would easily pass in time. If he closes his eyes Bob can still see the doctor removing it not that long ago. Knows it hasn’t been too long. “Is there any water?”

“Yes, here,” Bob replies quickly as he pours a glass of water from the jug on the side. It’s the first time since they’ve been there that it’s even been touched, Bob had actually started to feel sorry for the poor nurse who kept coming to change the water. Least it’s not being wasted now. Passing over the cup slowly Bob sits on the edge of his chair, ready to take the cup back if needed. “Here. Small sips okay, bud?”

Nodding Jack starts to take a few small sips, grimacing as the water passes down his throat. The doctor had reassured Bob and Alicia that the pain wouldn’t last for long but Jack just had to take it easy until then. Passing the cup back, to be placed on the side, Jack turns his attention to the medical equipment darting around the room. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital.” Bob broke gently. Jack’s face was stern, clearly thinking about what could have landed him in the hospital. Bob really didn’t want to start accusing or suggesting what happened just yet. Jack had only just woken up and he didn’t need the third degree. The doctors has warned them they couldn't push Jack for answers either. The had to wait for him to open up.

“What time is it?”

“About three in the morning.”

“Then I haven’t missed it.” Jack says, sitting up with purpose. Thankfully he didn’t try to get out of bed just yet because there was no way in hell Bob was going to let him actually leave. Especially for something so trivial as hockey. Not that Jack would be strong enough to leave anyway. In the time he had been in the hospital Jack had been through so much, missed so much, and as he saw Jack getting ready to get up Bob realises he needs to put Jack through just a little bit more. “I just need to check out and then we can go back to the hospital for my suit. My medication is back there anyway. It’s fine, I’ll jus-”

“The draft’s over, Jack.”

“No, it couldn’t be. I’ve only been here a few hours.”

“You’ve been here a week.”

Silence filled the room.

Reaching for Jack’s hand, Bob wanted to give him a reassuring pat but Jack yanked his hand away. The cogs in his mind turning a thousand miles a minute. Bob can see the moment it all sinks in. The draft and the pills and the bottle of vodka in the hotel bathroom, the bruises and visible risk and the lack of actual food in his stomach. The hospital gown and the little plastic wristband, the machines around the room and the pain, colourless walls. It’s all over. He can’t make it up this time. Can’t be better the next time. The sombre look on Jack’s face twists in Bob’s gut. He wishes he could just take Jack’s pain away for him. Wishes he could turn back time and save Jack from everything that happened.

“I’ve ruined everything.” Jack mutters as he reaches for his head, folding in on himself. His chest starting to shake as his breathing turned rapid. It’s not hard for Bob to spot the change, he’s seen Jack through enough panic attacks before. Had been waiting for this to happen.

Placing his hand on Jack’s back Bob begins to rub it in small circles in the same way he used to when Jack was very little and couldn’t get to sleep at night. Bob can feel Jack’s lungs hammering away inside and it breaks his heart all over again. “You’ve ruined nothing, Jack. Absolutely nothing, you hear me?”

“But the draft, our dreams,” Jack gasps between breaths, his whole body shaking now. “Your legacy-”

“Means nothing if you’re not here.” Bob tries to keep his voice steady, not wanting Jack to know how angry he feels. Not at Jack of course. He could never be angry at Jack but at himself. Angry for the pressure he has put on his son. All those years of expectations and a so-called legacy Jack felt he had to maintain. This was all this fault. Jack was in here because of him. Sure Jack would maybe still have anxiety regardless but Bob definitely made the situation worse by not being there enough for his son. For not supporting him enough. “All that matters is that you’re alive and you’re happy. Fuck everything else.”

Letting out a shaky laugh Jack tried to focus on his breathing but fails. His chest rising and collapsing as if each breath took all his strength. _It probably does,_ thought Bob. As he continued to rub circles into Jack’s back Bob wondered how much more could his heart break? How had he failed his child this much?

“What am I going to do?”

“You pick yourself up. You get yourself better and you keep moving forward.” Putting it like that was making it all sound so easy but Bob knew it wasn’t going to be. The doctors had told him and Alicia as much. Jack was going to tumble and fall and maybe even break again until they found the right path. He needed support if he was going to get back up again. Needed Bob and Alicia’s support, more than they already gave. “Whatever you choose, whatever you want to do, I’m here.”

“But-” Jack started, biting his lip. “But what if I want isn’t hockey?”

“Jack, I don’t care if you dropped off the face of the Earth to go rescue penguins or goldfish or something. If it’s what you want to do then I’ll be there.”

A genuine laugh escaped Jack’s lips and for the first time in years Bob saw his little boy again. Even as Jack’s breathing began to even out he couldn’t bring himself to stop rubbing circles with his hand. Mainly for his own sake.

Jack sat up a little straighter, hands clenching at his sides. “I love hockey but…”

“But?”

“I- it was too much, Papa. I was so alone.”

If you told him right then and there that he could change one moment of his life, no questions asked, Bob would tell you he’d go back and snap any hockey stick he’d taint over his knee and never look back. He’d go to games more, been there for more of Jack’s childhood, punched a few more reporters. Whatever it was that kick started this all off in the first place. He’d give up hockey all together if it meant Jack never had to suffer again or, in fact, ever. Bob’s eyes began to sting as he tried to hold back his tears. He had already cried so much already but he didn’t want Jack to see him break down. It would only be another worry Jack didn’t need.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Nothing I say, or do, will ever make up for that but,” Bob said firmly. Finally moving his hand he wrapped it around Jack’s forearm, giving it, what he hoped, was a reassuring squeeze. “But from now on I am here for you. One hundred and ten percent of the way. If you want me there I will be at every game, every practise, every class or goldfish performance if you want me to. You never have to be alone again.”

Bob watched as the stern look on his son’s face only grew. It almost reminded him of the time Jack broke a plate when he was three. He had been so terrified that he was going to make his parents angry and had stood, tears in his eyes, in the kitchen telling them how sorry he was. Sitting there now Jack looks just as small as he did then, the same fear in his eyes. “What if,” Jack asked, the words barely a whisper. “What if I can’t do it?”

“Then you just try your best,” Bob smiled softly.

Squirming in his seat Jack pulled his legs back up and wrapped his arms around them. Resting his forehead against his knees he sighed. “But what if my best just isn’t good enough, Papa? What if I try and try and it’s hopeless? What if I’m a just a lost cause?”

“No matter what you do,” Bob replied firmly, sitting forward in his chair. “It will always be good enough for me. Forget the rest of the world and just live each day as they come. Ignore the voices, the idiots who think it’s fine to push and push you.  Just take it a minute at a time. I will always be proud of you, Jack, and nothing can ever change that.”

Jack turned his head to look at his father, tears pricking his eyes. “Really?”

“Really really.”

Standing up Bob opened his arms to envelope Jack into a massive hug, being careful not to squeeze too tight. All he wanted to do was squeeze and squeeze and never let go until he knew Jack was safe inside his arms. So no one could get to his baby boy and hurt him. That, Bob knew, was not realistic. He couldn’t coddle Jack for the rest of his life. In the days and weeks and months to come Jack would have to be out on his own again. Would be out in the fresh air, fighting and learning to live and love each day as it comes, and Bob couldn’t fight them days for him. As much as he wanted to.Jack needed to fight them for himself but this time he would have his family on his side. Bob wasn’t sure how rough this recovery process was going to be on Jack, still wasn’t exactly sure what and how much Jack had been through, but as he held him in his arms he felt reminded of the first time he held Jack. Years ago in a hospital room just like the one they’re in now but with walls too bright and too loud. The nurse had passed Jack over to him and he had been so small. Bob had been so scared his large, hockey made hands would harm something so pure and perfect and yet Jack had settled almost instantly within Bob’s grasp. As if, even at a few minutes old, he felt safe in his father’s embrace. Jack wasn’t so small now, so new and fragile, but he was still Bob’s perfect little boy. Always would be. Even if this was all Jack wanted to give him in this moment Bob was prepared to take it. Already being more than the past few months put together. They had spent so long in silence, torn apart and words left unsaid. There were years, decades, for them to talk about whatever else would happen and what had happened. To figure out what came next. Holding his son now, Jack’s hands clutching his back and tears soaking his shoulder, Bob hoped Jack would feel safe in his arms again. Bob prayed to which ever deity was listening that they'd keep them living in this moment. Just one minute more. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hate these boys hurting but I also needed to write these boys talking through and learning to be there for each other again. 
> 
> Also this is the first thing I have written in months and I apologise. Writing has been very hard lately (and changing jobs hasn't helped). Hopefully I will be able to motivate myself to write some more!


End file.
